


Always with You, Even When the Dam Breaks

by FleetofShippyShips



Series: Prompted Harry Potter Works [50]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, HP: EWE, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14240991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetofShippyShips/pseuds/FleetofShippyShips
Summary: Prompt: "Neville,love, you really need to learn to prioritise."





	Always with You, Even When the Dam Breaks

“Neville,  _ love _ , you really need to learn to prioritise.”

Neville startled and looked up. Draco was standing over him, his hands tightly clutching at hips draped with those very expensive plum-purple robes he’d bought for the... _ oh. _

“Bugger,” Neville cursed softly, looking down at himself. He was caked with dirt. Half his left leg was buried in the soil, in fact.

Draco sighed. “I can go without you if you’d prefer to keep working,” he said tiredly. “Please tell me you didn’t agree just to make me happy. You know I respect that fact you hate events. I’m perfectly capable of going on my own. It’s just a ball.”

Not likely, Neville thought grimly, as he freed his leg from the soil and clambered to his feet. Draco at a society event alone was a Draco on the brink of a panic attack. As much as he tried to hide it. Neville didn’t much enjoy events either, but if being there made Draco more comfortable as he forced himself to go for whatever reason he thought important, Neville would damn well be there.

“Give me ten,” he said, before hurrying towards the house. He really should have planned his day better. Deciding to garden on the day of an event was a mistake he kept making. He should know better by now.

“You’re going to need more than ten,” Draco drawled from behind him, easily keeping up with him. “You need a shower. Maybe two.”

Neville stopped and turned abruptly, throwing his arms out to the side. “Cast a cleaning spell first, then I only have to rinse.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “You hate cleaning spells. Your skin is too sensitive to them, you’ll—”

“I hate showing up late more,” Neville said shortly. Walking into a room and having all eyes land on him was a feeling he detested beyond belief. More so because he almost always managed to do something stupid and clumsy when it happened.

Draco stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head. “New robes, fussed for over an hour with my hair and shoes, and for what?” he muttered. “To walk out into the garden, see you half buried in the dirt, and want to be nowhere else.”

Neville lowered his arms slowly. It was a very rare occasion for Draco to actively voice his reluctance to go to an event. It had only happened twice in the thirteen years they’d been together. He racked his brain, trying to remember if the date was significant in any way. Or if the event itself was. He didn’t really remember the details. An event for some charity Draco supported. As much as he tried, Neville never could remember all of them. Draco flung his fortune around without much regard for anything, it was so hard to keep track.

“We don’t have to go,” Neville said cautiously. “If you don’t want to.”

Normally that statement would get nothing but scorn. All it got this time was a breathy snort while Draco looked to the side. It made Neville stand straighter, his pulse quickening. Was he forgetting something that serious?

“But if I say we do, you will,” Draco muttered, before raising a hand and rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. “You always do, even if you keep forgetting and burying yourself in the garden instead of prioritising getting ready. Always there for me except for when you’re completely oblivious to anything outside of your garden! But still so good to me, damn you! I should have left without you!”

“What’s wrong?” Neville asked gently, edging closer to him. Draco was never like this unless he was moments from some kind of breakdown. 

Those were another rare event. Rare enough that Neville knew he’d definitely missed something. Maybe something in the papers.

Come to think of it, the last time he’d read the papers had been the day before. Two days before? Maybe three, in fact. Usually Draco left the papers on the kitchen counter for when Neville came in from the gardens for mid-morning tea, since Neville was always up hours before Draco rose for breakfast, and before the papers arrived. Why hadn’t he noticed them missing until now? 

In fact, now that he strained to remember, he hadn’t seen Draco much either over the last few days.

Closing the gap between them, he didn’t dare put his dirty hands on those expensive robes yet, but he hovered so close their foreheads brushed. 

“What did I miss?” he asked softly. 

Draco inhaled sharply and then held his breath for a few moments. Neville’s hands hovered near his arms, just waiting. If Draco sobbed, that was it. Expensive robes wouldn't get in the way of giving Draco the comfort he needed.

“Talk to me,” he said gently, as Draco kept, alarmingly, holding his breath.

It was like a damn bursting. The air left Draco’s lungs with a loud sob, and he fell forwards. Neville was ready to catch him, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just breathe,” he said, as Draco shook and sobbed in his arms.

“I didn’t...I didn’t want you to...to...to know,” Draco sobbed, his hands clutching at the back of Neville's shirt as he pressed his face firmly into Neville’s shoulder.

Even if he knew Neville would never judge him for his tears, which Neville was sure he did know, he still never could stand to let him see if he could help it. Which was ridiculous. Draco had seen him cry plenty of times over the years. 

“Breathe,” he said again, tightening his hold on him even though it wasn’t exactly helpful for the breathing part. Draco always liked to be held so tightly when he was upset.

Draco was sobbing something against his shoulder, but all Neville could make out was ‘attack’ and ‘Azkaban’. Enough to make his stomach twist, and his hold around Draco tighten further.

“Dead or alive,” he asked without delay. Merlin, how had the stupid prat kept this from him? How had he been prepared to go to a damn charity event with this weighing him down?

How had Neville not noticed?

“Alive,” Draco gasped, just loud enough for Neville to discern it from the sobs.

Closing his eyes, Neville uttered a quick and silent ‘thank you’ to no one in particular.

“I shouldn't...I...care…” Draco’s words were almost completely swallowed by sobs, and Neville cursed himself again for not noticing that Draco was walking around holding back a storm of this magnitude.

“You dad may have been a right bastard, and even you may hate him some days, but he was still your dad,” Neville said firmly, having no clue what to say and just hoping he didn’t make it worse. “You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to be afraid.  _ You’re allowed to cry. _ ”

Draco legs gave out and Neville struggled to hold him up for a moment before following him down until they were sitting awkwardly on the ground, Draco half sprawled over Neville. It wasn’t as bad as the time Draco had bottled up his fears about Neville not loving him anymore in their second year together, all because Neville had spent too much time in the garden. That time Draco had chosen a downpour to finally snap in, and they’d ended up sprawled in a rather spectacular patch of muddy garden.

“You’re allowed to cry,” Neville repeated, knowing that  _ that _ , if nothing else, was something Draco always needed to hear. “Let it out. Just don’t forget to breathe.”

Draco made an angry sound in amongst the sobs of pain, and Neville tried to rearrange them into a somewhat more comfortable position. There wasn’t much to do though, with his legs folded awkwardly under himself.

“I wish you’d told me,” he said. “Can’t you get it through your thick head that you’re not alone anymore? I’m always with you, through anything.”

Draco made a hiccuping sound, and then turned his head until his face was pressed into Neville’s neck instead of his shoulder. Progress. Disgusting wet, slimy progress. But progress.

“You can’t...can’t call me thick,” Draco got out between sobs. “I’m...I’m...distraught.”

Neville closed his eyes a moment and let some tension release as he exhaled slowly.

“I can and I will,” he said, loosening his grip on Draco to rub at his back. “Honestly. I’d have dragged you down to the gardens and you could have worked all this out through hard physical labour. Does wonders for emotional overload.”

Draco interrupted one of his own sobs with a snort. It was a horrible disgusting sound, but it made Neville relax even more. He had to thank Harry for teaching him that sometimes light insults and silliness was the best way to break through a world of pain. Even if there was always the chance it could make it worse.

It never worked on him, of course. Draco had found that out the hard way over the years. But it worked wonders for people like Harry and Ron and Draco. Quick tempers, quick bursts of overwhelming emotion, and then a long downward spiral unless they were knocked out of it.

As he rubbed Draco’s back and listened to the intervals between his sobs get longer and longer, he tried to think as fast as he could. Leaving it at that wasn’t good enough. But how could Neville talk about Lucius bloody Malfoy as if he gave two figs about him?

“Whatever anyone says to you, whatever the papers say about it, you don’t have to respond,” he tried. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t care. You don’t have to show that you do care. You don’t  _ have _ to do anything.”

“It’s not that easy!” Draco snapped, his fingers digging into Neville’s back as he let go of his shirt and grabbed at him instead.

“So just don’t go out until it is easier,” Neville said. “Wait until you feel steady, then go face all those stupid society arseholes who don’t care about anything but their status.”

“I’m one of those arseholes, you twat,” Draco muttered.

“Yes, you are an areshole,” Neville said, forcing a short chuckle. “Remind me to share the memory of you saying that with Harry and Ron later.”

Draco released an annoyed sound, and then pulled away from him. Neville let him go. He didn’t go far. He rearranged himself until he was sitting cross-legged in front of Neville, and wiped away the snot and tears on his face with the sleeves of his very expensive robes. 

After clutching to Neville like that, he’d managed to smear dirt all over his face in the process. He was an unappealing mess, and Neville just wanted to pull him back into his arms and not let him go.

“I have to make a statement,” Draco said shortly, not looking at him.

“No, you don’t,” Neville answered easily.

“I do!” Draco insisted, making an angry sound. “I have to…I have to...I have to maintain the distance that I...that…”

Neville hurt to look at him. His brow had furrowed in a horrible expression of confusion. He looked lost. Like he had that time in the rain and mud when Neville had poured his heart out in ways he should have before but hadn’t thought he’d had to. When he’d yelled and cried about Neville not loving him anymore, but hadn’t been prepared to hear how far from the truth that was.

Just like now, years and years later, when he still struggled to understand that there were people with whom he didn’t have to maintain that political distance between himself and his family.

“Draco,” Neville said softly, getting his attention. “He’s your dad. He could have…could he have died? What happened, exactly?”

“Someone smuggled in a wand and went on a spree in the Death Eater wing.”

Neville cursed loudly. Draco echoed his sentiment with a ghastly expression.

“What were you planning on doing tonight?” Neville asked, feeling his stomach twist, knowing he was probably saying the wrong thing. “Act like they deserved it? That it was alright and that you aren’t upset?”

The fact Draco kept looking down at the ground between them said everything.

“ _ Draco _ …”

“I know,” Draco huffed. “I know it’s stupid, alright? Why do you think I didn’t say anything? Why I...why I  _ hid _ it?”

Neville's stomach sank. No doubt because he knew Neville would let him feel sad and scared and he hated that he still felt those things. His relationship with his parents had always been, and would always be, a confusing mess of conflicting love and pain. There was really nothing Neville could say. He just wasn’t good enough with words to help with that.

“You look disgusting,” he said shortly, before hauling himself to his feet. Draco choked on his next inhale and looked up at him in disbelief. Neville reached down and pulled him up as well. “Let’s go have a long shower. No, two showers. Or maybe a shower and then a long bath. Then I’ll make us that pasta dish you love so much. The really creamy one the house elves can never get right.”

Draco’s breath came out as a hiccuping sob again, and Neville just gently wrapped an arm around his lower back and started leading him towards the house. And then he’d take them to bed with hot cocoa and not let Draco get up in the morning. Even if he had to set wards around the damn bed.

No one should go around pretending they don’t feel all that Draco would be feeling. As well as the fact he didn’t think he should be feeling any of it in the first place.

“ _ You’re  _ disgusting,” Draco suddenly muttered as they reached the house. “Burying your own leg in the garden like a damn animal. Ruining my robes.”

“I know, I know,” Neville said with an exaggerated sigh. “However do you explain to your friends that you’ve failed to civilise me? After all these years?’

Draco stumbled, and Neville grinned. He was quite proud of that one. He’d been saving it. It was a miracle he hadn’t forgotten it.

But then Draco started sobbing again, and Neville cursed himself. 

“Too…bloody...what did I...did I...do to deserve…”

Bugger, Neville thought to himself, as Draco set himself off again. To hell with good manners. Neville drew his wand from his dirty pocket, and Apparated them directly to the bathroom. 

They were in for a long night, and the sooner they were clean, the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by @beelsebutt, and originally posted to my [@drarryville](http://drarryville.tumblr.com) sideblog.


End file.
